


in the times of snow, moon and flowers, i think of you

by ninian



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Attempted Murder, Character Death, Death from Old Age, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), golly this is sad!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 05:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20773154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninian/pseuds/ninian
Summary: It’s a little easier to live this life when you were never human in the first place.( or, byleth struggles with the immortality given to them as seasons come and go )





	in the times of snow, moon and flowers, i think of you

**Author's Note:**

> hey gang i'm back and sadder than ever!
> 
> uuuhhh this is just something random. i don't know, man! also slight edelclaude bc i'm in fucking hell and i'm the ceo of edelclaude. i'm tired, this is completely melodramatic and self indulgent, etc. slightly beta'd. there's probably mistakes.
> 
> title is a reference to the line the the jpn title of three houses is based off of! i thought it was fitting.

The soles of their boots click along the marble flooring beneath them. The early morning sun peers through the cathedral's stained glass windows, the light reflecting off of the many colours. The eagle, lion and deer painted on them shimmers and glitters, though Byleth dares not to stop long enough to peer at them. It's winter, which means that the cathedral's halls are cold, despite the sun's warmth peeking in. The monks that pass them are bundled up, trying to stay warm in the morning.

Verdant eyes get used to the slight dimness of the cathedral’s halls, light green hair flowing behind them with every step they took. They have done this for years, now. Every day begins the same for them, and usually ends the same for them as well.

It’s routine. _This _is routine. The years that passed have all blended into this routine, like milk and tea stirred together in a cup during one of their tea times from long past. Sometimes, Byleth will believe that something that had happened 30 years ago has happened only yesterday. They often have to be reminded that those years have long passed.

_“You might be losing your mind,”_ chimes a child-like voice in their head. _“Let us hope that’s not the case; you need not lose your heart or identity.”_

( she says that, like it’s the easiest thing, as though she forgets that they had suddenly become an immortal being in their youth. byleth knows she’s just trying to help, though. )

Regardless, Byleth forces themselves to become numb to the passing years, to the withering faces of their former students, to the news of their passing. The last one is always the hardest to deal with; at least with simply growing old, Byleth can still mask their fear and sadness with a cup of tea with them, as they prattle on about their children, and then their grandchildren, and so on.

You can’t have tea with a corpse.

“Good morning, your highness,” greets a familiar young man. Years change, but the face of the young man before them does not - much like themselves.

Byleth nods their head. “Good morning.” A tiny smile masks the storm that dares rises in their heart.

It’s hard to remember what Seteth goes by now a days. He and Flayn change it up every ten years or so, mostly to avoid suspicion. Byleth figures that they too will have to change their identity as well, perhaps. It’s a sad thought to them, becoming someone that you shouldn’t become. Even now, the people believe them to be an incarnation of the Goddess, someone to worship. The people do not see Byleth as themselves - they _only _see the _Goddess _in another body.

Edelgard must be _rolling _in her grave right about now.

The thought of her causes their chest to tighten. And yet, they still wonder what Edelgard would have been like, had she not declared war on the former archbishop and her church. Would she had reached her hand out to Dimitri and Claude to achieve her goals, rather than depend on those who had hurt her in her past? Byleth had asked Claude that, when his hair first started turning gray and when crow’s feet first appeared on the corner of his eyes.

( “maybe she would have been easier to work with,” claude had laughed a little as he set the tea cup down. “yeah, i could see that. we could have worked together to unite all of fódlan and dismantled the crest system together.”

“do you think you would have married her? for political reasons?”

“_woah _now, teach. talk about jumping the wyvern here.” he said that, but an amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “but i could see that. i think the almyran council would rather me marry someone from almyra, but if they couldn’t, they’d probably push me to marry someone powerful like her. to be honest, i’d rather choose her over someone i didn’t know, but maybe i’m a little sentimental like that.”

byleth had simply smiled at his words, noting the faraway smile on his face as he looked out the window to admire the crimson flowers that bloomed nearby. they had kept claude’s long lost love a secret. )

And it’s not Edelgard they just think of. They think about Dimitri too. 

A man driven by his thirst for revenge, being swallowed by the darkness that loomed inside of him. Maybe if Byleth had kept an eye on him, they could have saved him from being speared down. Maybe he could have become a good ruler. Byleth likes to think so - Dimitri was gentle, he cared for Edelgard and Claude both. If he knew the full story, maybe he would have been alright. At least, as alright as one could be in his situation. Regardless, Byleth could see Dimitri standing with Edelgard and Claude so clearly, as they usher in a new dawn and a bright future.

Maybe in another life, all three of them could have worked together to take down both the harmful system that was in place and Those Who Had Slithered.

Byleth doesn’t regret their choice to teach Golden Deer, because Claude needed them too, but they always wonder if there was a possibility to save all three of them. Maybe they could have been the light that guided them out of the darkness.

( _“you wish to be a flame, yet you grow tired of flickering and being relit.”_ the child-like voice chimes in again. _“but, i do not blame you. we both have grown tired of the seasons that pass us by. we will sleep soon, i promise.”_ )

The voice is comforting, like a lullaby that their father used to sing to them.

* * *

“Your Highness, a message from the current King of Almyra.”

Byleth had always dread this message.

Their students had passed on, one by one. Growing old does that to you. The numbers of the Golden Deer had dwindled down, until it was only them and Claude who stood. 

Claude aged gracefully, but he was always a pretty boy even when they were all younger. He may have grown older, but he never really changed. The mischievous light in his emerald eyes had never once dimmed. The people of Almyra and Fódlan had grown to love him and eventually, he settled down, married, and had a few children. Then, he had grandchildren - the circle of life.

The circle of life always ends in death, though.

It doesn’t take long for Byleth to reach Almyra. They had rushed there, dropping all their duties, but how could they not? 

Claude is dying of his old age. 

He no longer developed schemes in his old age, he simply watched his grandchildren do it for him. Even if he had not changed as a person, Byleth still saw the signs of age catching up to him.

Byleth enters the room. Claude lays there, surrounded by family. Even outside, people surround the castle when word had reached that the male had reached his final days because though Claude has long stepped down as king, he was beloved by the people. Byleth takes a minute to study Claude as they stand in the doorway, seeing just how old and tired he has become. 

He’s almost unrecognizable to them.

Claude opens his eyes when he hears Byleth’s silent shuffling footsteps. The former king looks towards them, as his family allows Byleth to make their way to him. After all, Byleth was the one who helped unite the people of Fódlan with him, how could they not let them see him in his final moments?

“Hey, teach.” The tired grin he gives makes the ruler feel weak.

Byleth swallows their heart back down. “You should save your energy.”

“Always telling me what to do,” the old man _tsks _at his young looking, former teacher. “You haven’t changed in years. And I’m not just talking about your appearance. You’re still the same teach we all loved.”

Fódlan's ruler’s hand gently finds their former student’s hand. It’s calloused and boney, dry and wrinkled against their own calloused yet still much softer one. The warmth of it is still there, but it’s fading fast. Byleth feels their heart travel back in their throat, as they struggle to find the coherent words to say.

“You’re leaving me too,” chokes Byleth, the words slipping from their lips. “First Dimitri, then Edelgard, then my students, and now you.”

“Old age does that to a person, not sure if you’ve realized that.” Claude wheezes out a laugh. He falls silent for a moment, his chest rising up and down. “To be honest, I thought I would be the one to follow you into death. But it’s not the case, is it? I wonder if Rhea’s death would have saved you from this pain.”

If Byleth wasn’t already choked up, they were sure that this would be what makes them choke up. Claude was never mince about his feelings towards Rhea. He felt for her, but he did not forgive her for what she had done to people. It shouldn’t be surprising that even _now _, he wonders if Rhea would be better off dead. A shaky breath leaves their lips, but tears refuse to come out. They had numbed themselves too much over the years to allow them to cry.

“I know,” Claude’s voice breaks them away from their thoughts. “It’s hard seeing me old and wrinkly and not my beautiful self, you can say it.”

Byleth laughs. “You still don’t miss a beat, do you?” They sigh in exasperation, but the smile settles onto their features nicely.

“There’s that smile I love.” Golden Deer’s former leader joins in the laughter, gently squeezing Byleth’s hand. “I want you to keep smiling, for me - for all of us. I promise we’ll meet again. I don’t know how, but our bond won’t break so easily.”

“We’ll always be connected.” Golden Deer’s former teacher finishes his sentence. Claude smiles at that, looking up at the ceiling of his home. For a moment, a frown settles on his voice - as though he’s _finally _realized what’s about to happen.

“Sorry, teach, but I’ll be seeing Edelgard and Dimitri before you do.” His voice is quiet, slightly wheezing as his body shakes a little. “I’ll tell them all that we did, in their memory. I think they’ll be grateful.”

“They will be,” Byleth’s voice shakes in a whisper. Finally, a tear drops from their eye, onto the back of Claude’s hand. “They’ll be grateful for you not losing your heart, for being kind even when the world was tough on you. They’ll greet you with open arms, and want to hear of everything we did together.”

Claude smiles. He smiles as his eyes close as though he’s sleeping, and he smiles as they feel his body still into the night. The warmth that comes from his hand stills - a slow fade to remind them that the last student they had with them was no more.

Emotionless, the tears drop down their face as Claude’s family weeps for the king they lost. In the back of their mind, Byleth swears they hear soft weeping from the child-like voice that is always in the back of their mind.

( it rains in both almyra and fódlan, the morning after claude’s death. it's autumn, so no one seems to really notice. byleth wonders if it's because the goddess weeps for what was lost. )

* * *

Byleth stands before Rhea’s tomb, late at night. 

To the public, the former Archbishop who had an iron grip on Fódlan had died in the five year war so long ago, succumbing to her wounds. The truth of the matter was so much more complicated than that. Seiros, who had taken the name Rhea ( or, perhaps, it was rhea who had taken the name seiros ) had fallen into a deep slumber after she was wounded. Neither dead nor really living, though to Byleth she had a living presence all the same. 

They watch her chest rise up and down, a peaceful look upon her face. Was she dreaming of the days with her mother? Was she dreaming of finally being reunited with her?

_“I wonder if Rhea’s death would have saved you from this pain.”_

Gloved fingers tighten around the blue clothed hilt of the dagger in their hands. The dagger had been found at Edelgard’s side, gripped in her hands as she - like Dimitri and then Claude many years later - left her professor in the land of the living. It was the only thing Byleth had left of her - the only thing outside of memories of the peaceful academy days. 

But Byleth was not here to remember Edelgard.

Shaky hands lifted up, over their head as emotionless, blank eyes peered down at the sleeping former archbishop. Their grip around the hilt of the dagger only tightened, knuckles turning stark white from underneath the gloves they wore. If Rhea was killed, could Byleth’s ties with their immortality be severed? Could they _finally _die in peace? 

It was selfish to _think _this, selfish to _do _this, but Byleth was _tired _. Byleth wanted to join their father and their precious students in death, finally.

Byleth simply wants to go to sleep.

Running footsteps echo throughout the Holy Tomb but they don’t look up at all. Not even when Seteth and Flayn shout their name in panic. Their eyes never leave Rhea’s sleeping form.

“You took _everything _from me,” they growl through grit teeth. “You took _everything _that I loved.”

They bring the dagger down onto the sleeping woman.

“Byleth!” Seteth shouts.

“Professor!” Flayn cries.

The dagger is brought down, and it _tears_.

But it does not tear into Rhea’s flesh. It digs into the cushion of the tomb she sleeps in. Byleth takes a moment to realize what they’ve done, before sinking to their knees. They couldn’t kill Rhea. They couldn’t do it - they didn’t want to _become _like her, no matter how much they wanted to finally rest, no matter how much they wanted to join their loved ones. It’s not Rhea’s fault, not completely. They finally understand what she had felt for all those years of being alone.

Every single emotion runs through their veins. It’s overwhelming, _it’s too much_. They miss it when they weren’t able to feel.

They don’t look up when Seteth and Flayn finally join them at their side. The Holy Tomb is quiet, only the echoes of their running feet fading into the background. Flayn swallows, as she sinks next to her former professor and wrap comforting arms around them.

“Professor…” She whispers to them, gentle fingers rubbing circles into their shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

Tears pour from Byleth’s eyes, almost flowing like a river. Finally, a loud, pitiful sob wretches from their insides - _finally _coming out after all these years of numbing themselves. Seteth finally sinks down next to his daughter and the professor, joining in to comfort them. He opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself. Nothing he will say can fix this situation. Nothing he says will fix the heartache that they have all gone through. 

It’s a little easier to live this life when you were never human in the first place.

As Byleth sobs for all they have lost, Rhea sleeps, lost to the dreams that only she can see. There is but a soft smile on her face.

* * *

Byleth curls up in the throne that the Goddess once sat in. The memory of when they first came here slips between thoughts.

They feel weak. It’s slightly scary, suddenly feeling so weak, but they chalk it up to tiredness from crying so hard. At the same time, it’s almost a blessing. Sleep has never came to Byleth easy in their later years of life, but their merged body did not need sleep any more. Another reminder that Byleth was no longer human. The Sword of the Creator laid in their arms, cradling it against their chest.

“I want to sleep,” whispers Byleth. “I just want to sleep.”

Seteth and Flayn say nothing, for once. Thankfully they don’t try to get them to go to their bed. Byleth wants to sleep here.

“We’ll be here for when you wake,” Seteth finally says after a moment of silence. “I know… You feel as though you are alone, but you are not. You have us, and you have--”

“_Brother,_” Flayn’s voice is gentle but firm, as she places a hand on his arm. “Let’s leave them be.”

The older male falls silent but, eventually, he nods his head. For a moment, Byleth watches them turn around and walk away from the throne. They know they won’t venture far, but the privacy is nice to have.

Byleth feels weight against their side. They don't have the energy to lift their head up.

_“Are you ready to sleep, now?”_ The child-like voice they often hear is soft. She doesn’t have the normal bite she usually has with her words; it’s motherly and caring. _“It’s OK to say yes. I will not hold it against you.”_

Byleth says nothing at first. Finally, they nod their head. “I am.”

_“Then let us sleep,”_ she says and the former professor feels a pair of ghost-like arms wrap around them. _“I, too, am feeling restless. Let us finally rest for a little while.”_

The voice is comforting. They smile as their verdant eyes close as though they’re sleeping, and they smile as their body stills into the night.

The soles of their boots click along the marble flooring beneath them. The doors open, revealing the warm and sunny day before them. A gentle breeze brushes past them with sunlight peering through the cathedral's stained glass windows, though Byleth is not inside to see. They only catch a small glimpse of eagle, lion and deer shimmering and glittering from the windows. 

Blue eyes gently close as they enjoy the soft breeze and warm sunlight on their face, the wind rushing through their dark blue locks. It felt like years since they’ve felt such a feeling, they had almost forgotten what it was like.

It's spring, or at least it feels like spring to them. Byleth wonders how long they've been sleeping.

“My teacher,” a young woman’s gentle yet firm voice calls out.

“Professor,” a young man’s voice echoes out - soft yet still powerful.

“Teach!” another young man’s voice, familiar and mischievous sounding, reaches their ears.

Byleth opens their eyes. They see three students standing before them, dressed in their appropriate uniforms. The white haired woman wears a red cape, the blonde haired male wears a blue one, and the dark haired male wears a yellow cape. All three of them are smiling at them.

“C’mon, teach, don’t tell me you slept in.” The dark haired male grins, his arms behind his head. “At this rate, we won’t see you until nightfall! Not that I mind, I enjoy the night a lot.”

“Are you feeling well, professor?” The blonde haired male asks, a smile that has some worried entwined in it appears on his features. “If you are not, you should go back and rest. You won’t be at your best if you fall ill, now.”

“I believe they have done enough resting,” the white haired woman tells her fellow house leaders, who stand at either side of her as she stands in the middle of them, before turning back towards her elder with a smile. 

“Isn’t that right, my teacher?”

She extends her hand towards them. Byleth glances between all of them for only a moment, before a genuine smile washes over their faces. All three of their smiles only grow bigger at the sight of their professor.

“Yeah,” they say as they take the woman’s hand in theirs. “I have.”

The Black Eagles’ leader smiles. She drags the professor closer to all three of them, until all of them wrap them into an embrace whose warmth could rival the sun’s. The birds chirp a tune or two, filling the silence that has taken over.

“You took your time coming here,” Edelgard whispers, voice muffled by the embrace.

“We had almost given up.” Dimitri smiles down at them.

“_They _did,” Claude scoffs a little. “_I _never did, teach. I knew you’d find your way here eventually.”

Byleth wraps their arms around them all, making sure not a single one of them is left out of their embrace. They’re warm, all warm. It’s overwhelming, but not in a bad way at all. Teardrops fall down. It confuses them for a moment, mainly because they’re not sad. They feel happy. Ah, these were tears of happiness, aren’t they? Byleth pulls back slightly, to look at the young faces of their precious students looking at them ever so fondly.

“Sorry it took me so long,” they laugh gently. “But I finally caught up with you all.”

Their heart beats, slowly as though it was waking up.

( it’s a wonderful sound, they think. it's almost like music. )

**Author's Note:**

> ( quick edit: changed the rating bc. death and attempted murder! )


End file.
